AntiSexual Harrassement Class
by Enide Dear
Summary: There is far too much sexual harassments going on in ShinRa! Decisive action must be taken! Let's hold a class!


The general mumble in ShinRa's great auditorium were all the highest Directors, Soldiers and Turks - the most famous heroes, villains and word builders on Gaia - were gathered was one of sulky 'And who's bright idea was this, then?'

"Don't look at me," Reeve said testily after one too many suspicious glances thrown his way. "I care for Midgard, trees, the environment, orphans, recycling and abandoned chickoboes, but you lot are on your own as far as I am concerned."

With a great many heavy sighs and slumping shoulders, the audience finally settled down as the specially invited consult, a stern and very strict looking elderly woman, stepped into the room, sensible heels clicking on the floor.

"Welcome to the ShinRa mandatory anti-sexual harassment course." She said primly. "My name is Mrs. Margret and I will assist you through this course. The reason why the President ordered all of you here is because we've been going through ShinRa and discovered some truly appalling situations that needs be corrected immediately. But first," she clapped her hands together, accidentally waking up a few people who had already managed to doze off at the back benches, " I want everyone to turn off cell phones and the like. Do you mind?" She gave a pointed glance upwards to where a handsome, wutainese man was talking softly into his phone.

The man gave her a cold eyed look that went straight to her primal brain and switched on the button marked 'fear'. She had a very quick epiphany about the many, many ways that a person could be seriously hurt with only the use of a cell phone and inadvertedly took a step back.

"Yes, I do." The man said softly and then turned back to his call. Too relieved to dare push it, Mrs Margaret straightened her sensible skirt in an attempt to regain some dignity.

"Ah…we'll go through the complaints that have been sent in then. Hmm…" she shuffled her papers. "A Mr….Rude?"

She seemed faintly taken back when a tall, bald man in a suit raised his hand in the air.

"It's just Rude, mam." He rumbled, gaining a few sniggers.

"Um, well…Rude. Um." She glanced back at her papers again, apparently slightly off balance by the situation. "Your complaint says that you have been subjected to repeated sexual harassment."

"Oh, yes." Rude nodded sagely. "My partner -" he elbowed a snoring red-head that somehow managed to look on edge even as he slept "- constantly harasses me sexually."

The red-head opened a sleepy eye, stretched languish and yawned like a cat. He glanced at Mrs. Margret and winked, keeping his tongue out rather lewdly. Snickers rose in the hall as a small blush crept up the woman's cheek even though she tried to quickly hide it by checking her papers. They said the red-head's name was Reno, no last name, not title.

"So, eh…what do you do when…these types of situations arises?" She floundered at Rude.

"Ain't just the situation that rises," Reno mumbled, loud enough to be heard in the acoustically well-made room.

Snickers and grins followed.

"Usually drag him away. The attic, the basement or the cellars..."

"We're going through the rooms alphabetically," Reno added. "Gonna start on the Directors' rooms on Monday."

"Do that and die." Came the response from the wutainese man a few benches behind the pair, the man not letting go of his cell phone even as he scowled.

"Aw. How 'bout it, Lazard?"

A proper man in purple suit and white pants leaned back in his chair, steeping his fingers and watching them over them.

"Three-way?" He smiled.

"Yeah!"

"Sure."

"Wait, wait." Mrs. Margret was now completely flustered. "You mean…you don't *mind* him harassing you?" She tried to get her head around this new situation, clearly failing.

"Well," Rude said amiably, glancing at his partner who somehow managed to look utterly bored and utterly sexy at the same time. "Would you? And it wasn't a complaint," Rude added. "Just couldn't let go of a chance to brag in front of everyone."

The hall erupted in boos, cheers, catcalls and someone threw an eraser that bounced of the stoic bald head.

The red-head threw her a *truly* appalling leer and to her horror, Mrs. Margaret realized she blushed again.

"Maybe we should move on." She tried to look sternly at the lot of them, but it didn't quite work. "I have discovered some serious problems with your organization. For one thing there are no separate showers for men and women! I realize that this is not a problem in Soldier, but the…Turks…are another matter." She checked her papers, looking for an easier prey. "This must be quite challenging for you, Mrs…Cissney." What was with these people and no last names?

"It used to be." A pretty curly haired woman on one of the middle benches shrugged. "But then I got this waterproof camera and..."

A Second Class Soldier in a helmet leaned over and interrupted her, holding out his hand.

"Hello, Cissney. My name is Kunsel. Let's talk business, shall we?"

"As long as she uses the profit to buy matching nipple tassels and bunny-tail thongs to herself and the secretaries, I have no problem with this, yo."

"And invite them all over for pillow fights and sensual massages," the wutai man murmured, but frowned into his cell phone, "What? No, not you, idiot."

"And let us watch." Rude added with a pleased sigh.

Kunsel possibly blinked behind his visor.

"I'm going to be the riches man alive," he mumbled.

"That is not the point!" Mrs. Margret slammed a ruler down the desk with a loud slap, waking most of the drooling people in the room from their reveries but quite possible sending some deeper into perverted fantasies. "My point is, women are clearly excluded from positions of power within this company!"

A rather shrill voice harrumphed in the higher benches and a woman of truly impressive and clearly unrealistic chest measurements stood up, trembling with anger. The trembling made her very low cut cleavage jiggle and heave like a creamy sea. She immediately had the room's complete attention as she leaned forward.

"I would like to point out that I have the second highest position within Shinra, and as for power…." Scarlett smiled wickedly, eyes gliding up and down Mrs. Margaret's sensible if by no way unattractive body. "You can show up at my office after class and I can show you all about *true* power. Bring the ruler."

Several whimpers and blushing faces amongst the cadets at the lower levels showed that the ShinRa laundry would probably have their work cut out trying to remove stains from pant crotches for a week.

While Mrs. Margaret still tried to pick up her jaw from the floor, the damn red-head spoke up again.

"Are you feeling excluded because of your sex, Cissney-love?"

"Yes," the female Turk, with or without nipple tassels, said, sulkily crossing her arms. "They won't let me into the Soldiers' shower rooms."

"That's not because you are a woman." A russet man with a truly outrageous earring sniffed from his place a few rows up and put down his book. "That's because you are a *Turk*. No Turks are allowed in the Soldiers' shower room."

"Especially not with a camera." A big boned dark haired man added.

"Too bad. I'd pay handsome for *those* photos." Kunsel sighed.

"Hi Kunsel, my name is Reeve" A bearded man leaned over to shake the Second Class Soldier's hand. "And this is Cait, who, as you can see, is small enough to fit into a ventilation shaft. And has camera eyes."

A general groaning and pouting came from the Generals' bench along with an added:

"You'd better give us 10% of the profit," from the one called Genesis. "I need nipple tassels to, you know."

Mrs. Margaret made a bold attempt to regain control by clearing her throat loudly but was interrupted by a young man in white who frowned at Reeve.

"Really, Reeve. That as a bit cheap, wasn't it?"

Innocent- looking eyes were battered back at him.

"As I recall, sir, you were the one who told me that if the Department of Urban development needed bigger funding, then I should show some initiative myself."

"….fine. But I want 25 % of your profit."

"Please marry me, sir." Tseng mumbled, turning to the young blonde who put up a haughty look.

"If you suggest you will buy the cow that's already giving you the milk for free, then maybe I should reconsider my suggestion of making you Head of Turks one day."

"Sorry, sir."

"But what about…what about blacks?" Mrs. Margaret almost screamed and pointed a finger at Rude who just looked at the stolidly. "What about the pressure of being the only black person in ShinRa?"

"The Hell you talkin about?" Reno frowned, obviously offended. "All Turks are black."

"What?" Mrs. Margaret's eyes darted from the dark skinned bald one, to the curly haired woman, to the pale red-head and the tanned wutai man. All of them nodded and touched their black suits.

"We're all black." Tseng said menacing. "Where it counts."

"I…" But whatever the harassed Mrs. Margaret would say was lost forever as the doors to the room was slammed open. *A Presence, yes,* the stunned woman thought to herself, *with a grammatically wrong P, but it deserved it, a Presences shines in the doorway, beautiful like an angel but oh that wicked smile like a devil…."

Sephiroth stepped in and somehow all light fell on him, drawn in by a silver curtain that smelled of roses as cruel reptile eyes alighted on her and only her and that cleavage that seemed to go on forever down to the faintest gleam of a treasure trail above his pants….

She was only very vaguely aware of a snort from the russet man and the not even hidden comment:

"Drama queen."

….because now that devil was sweeping towards her, every motion so sensuous and graceful as to make her knees week and her sensible panties very un-sensibly wet as he reached out to touch her cheek and mumble in her ear, his voice like the purring of some giant cat:

"My pardons for being late. I had to take a shower. Wet and soapy and hot. I was, you see, so very, very….dirty."

Mrs. Margaret's knees gave in and she sat down most unceremoniously and un-sensible on the desk with the cruel angel looming above her.

"Class dismissed!" She squealed.

The angel spun around with one last whiff of roses, leaving her quite abandoned and panting on the desk even as the Turks rushed past her for freedom and the coffee machine, quickly followed by Soldiers of various ranks and last Kunsel, Cissney and Reeve, still talking about photos and profits. The last Mrs. Margaret heard was Sephiroth's haughty:

"And remember who saved you all. I expect gratitude, knee bending and your asses are all mine for a fortnight."

"Yes, sure, but if you tear another nipple tassel, then you'd better damn pay for it." Came the quick answer.

Mrs. Margaret sighed and pushed herself up from the desk. She now understood why all her colleagues – male and females – had thought her insane to take on this job where just about everyone was a walking hormonal teenage dream. She felt embarrassed and tired. Dirty and confused. She needed something sensible. She needed the world back to rules and strict obligations. She needed to punish herself for this failure, or she would not be able to move on. She needed…  
>A piece of red sequin floated past her, tied with a few blonde hairs. Mrs. Margaret stood up straighter and adjusted her skirt. Yes. This was just what she needed. Scarlet's room shouldn't be hard to find, after all.<br>She even remembered to bring the ruler.


End file.
